Ahh, the thermometer...
When we lived in Concho, it symbolized justification for me always being cold. Very often we had a hard time keeping our bedroom, kitchen, and living room above 60 degrees. Especially at night or first thing in the morning. Our main living area was at the back of the house where we went without the sun hitting our side of the walls for 6 months out of the year, so it never got a chance to warm up. We just spent half the year in the shade. I'd look at the thermometer to prove to myself I'm not crazy about being SO cold all the time.
Now in the Valley, it's a symbol of happiness for me. I don't care that I was born in New England where it's often very cold. My body "belongs" in the heat. I look at the thermometer when it says 100, or 108, or even 110 degrees - and it makes me happy. The heat really doesn't bother me. Thankfully, I don't have to work outside in it like so many people do, and for that, I'm truly appreciative. But there's something about the way my body feels when the heat hits my joints. The pain I experienced in the cold mountains is gone. My joints feel warm and pain-free here in the Valley of the Sun, even in spite of having rheumatoid arthritis in my neck and right hand.
Seeing so much red in that thermometer is a quick reminder to be thankful for days without pain, shivering, gloominess, and sadness. And this next winter, my body will be very thankful that we live here.
No comments:
Post a Comment